Here It Begins
by FlowerCrazy
Summary: What would happen if Stringfellow had a daughter that he gave up for adoption?   What if that same daughter crossed paths in her childhood with a certain MacGyver?   This is her story...
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Airwolf or MacGyver. I'm simply borrowing their worlds and characters from MGM and Belisurio. All original characters are mine.

What would happen if Stringfellow had a daughter that he gave up for adoption? What if that same daughter crossed paths in her childhood with a certain MacGyver?

The following is her story. I will warn the readers that venture into this story that this first 'book'/'installment' of this story is rather…slow at times. But please keep reading through this since all of this sets up for the next story that speeds up quite a bit. This sets up her world, her issues, her background. Introducing a character into established 'worlds' can take some time, so bear with me.

Disclaimer! I do not know a thing really about military hierarchy, standards, etc. I have no Beta reader for any of my stories so if there are times where those of you with the knowledge of the above stated items, please pass over them with a grain of salt as they are being written with someone who has some lack of information in that area.

Chapter 1

System Check – Activate validation system on File 88-765221

File 88-765221:

Estate of Stringfellow Hawke: Twenty year hold released - validating final recipient of Estate directive.

Stringfellow Hawke: Deceased, March 21, 1988 – Trauma sustained from explosion

Dominic Santini: Deceased, March 14, 1988 – DOA from explosion

Saint John Hakwe: Brother - Deceased, December 2, 1992 –Trauma from Skiing accident

Stringfellow Miller: Son –Deceased, June 6, 1994–Mother and Son killed by drunk driver

Saint John Van Lin Hawke: Nephew – Deceased, September 11, 2001-Died on Flight 97

Caitlin O'Shannacy: Friend – Deceased, May 4, 1988 – Died in stunt for chopper movie

Michael Goldsmith Briggs III: Friend – Deceased, May 16, 1988 - Killed in line of duty

Merella Callehan: Friend – Deceased, May 16, 1988 – Killed in line of duty

…. Activate secured file….

Cheyenne 'Red' MacPhearson: Daughter – Born: January 30, 1975

Marital Status: Single

Current Location: Nellis AFB, NV.

Current Occupation: Major, Fighter Pilot, Test pilot in Air Force

Form of Communication: Cellular Phone - ### ### ####

….Activate hold release - Deliver Estate instructions and directive….

"Enough is enough!" came a raised voice from down the hallway.

Everyone in the Generals' office knew this day had been coming and no one dared to walk in front of the general's door for fear he would redirect his frustrations onto someone else.

There was silence for a moment before the General continued. "I have covered your ass for almost four years, in hopes that you might get a reality check. My superiors are beginning to believe that I'm too soft on you and it's beginning to make me look bad. You have been passed up for promotion time and again because of your 'reckless' behavior." There was a thump of what sounded like a thick file onto his oak desk. "Insubordination, reckless endangerment of military equipment, disobeying orders and the list goes on and on," growled the General.

Again, silence from the person who was getting their ass chewed out. For once the secretary and the other major in the office looked fearful as the general grew heated in his rant.

"I know what you've been doing Major!" he roared. "And I don't like it!" There came another sound of a thud from the office, but this time it sounded more like a fist hitting the file on top of the desk.

Finally, a low voice was heard asking something, but exactly what, the two down the hallway couldn't make it out. But there was a roar of disbelief from the General's office and everyone instinctively flinched. "What do you mean 'And exactly what is that, Sir?' You know God Damned well exactly what it is! You refuse to apply for promotions and when you think you might be offered one, you screw around, mess up and make it impossible to recommend you for one. It is a miracle that you've made Major and managed to keep yourself from being stripped of your rank. You told me when you first came in under my command that all you wanted to do was be the best pilot around, and by God, you are! You're a natural at it! You've got more medals and ribbons than half the general's on the committee and yet, you ignore those honors as if they meant nothing!" he shouted, but the last few words seemed to have a hint of pride to them, more than anger.

"But dammit Major! They are going to clip your wings this time and soon!" the General shouted even louder than before. It seemed that by getting louder, it might sink into the 'thick' head of the person on the receiving end. "My superiors are heavily considering giving you a dishonorable discharge. Oh and they can, so don't give me that face. They have grounds on any number of accounts and I can't cover your ass any more."

There was silence again as if the General was waiting for a reply from the recipient of the lecture. When there was no response, there came an exasperated sigh from the General's office. "You are to take two weeks of leave; you are officially grounded for those two weeks until the committee has made their decision on your latest stunt. You are to get off this base tonight and away from any of those that you 'buzzed.' Several might be out for retaliation, though they've been warned against any action towards you. I hate to even suggest this but you better take this time to clear your head, get your priorities straight and get your 'house' in order. It will be a miracle if they don't discharge you and the All Mighty will have to come down from on High just to save your ass if they don't."

There came the sound of a slamming drawer, the rustle of paper and the scratch of a pen. "I suggest you take these two weeks of forced leave seriously. You might consider looking for something outside of the Air Force for work because I cannot even fathom what the outcome of this committee hearing will be," growled the General. "You are dismissed Major MacPhearson. I don't want to see you back here until the day before your hearing," he said, while there was a shuffle of a chair and the sound of cloth moving as they saluted each other.

The sound of boots could be heard on the tile down the hallway as the Major exited the General's office. The secretary saw the Major move past her door, putting her hat back on. MacPhearson was so hard to read most of the time, the face always cast in shadows or as stoic as if made of stone. Her face was never smiling for more than a moment. The blue gray eyes were as hard as ice, only melting for brief moments of time before they were shielded and cold again. The secretary wondered what MacPhearsons' life was like before the Air Force. In the years she'd known the Major that look and expression had very rarely changed.

She was brought out of her reflections when she heard the stairwell door shut behind the Major, causing the General to shout for her to come take a memo. With a soft sigh, she grimaced at Major Martin, the one she shared an office with and he winced as she got up and went down the hall to the General's office with her pad of paper and pen.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

MacPhearson headed for the barracks. To any casual observer, the slender officer could have passed for a man, but by the shape of the face and the curves to her body when she wasn't in her flight suit, gave her away. She was half Cheyenne Indian, half White. All she knew was that her mother died before she was a year old and she hadn't a clue of who her father was. She never cut her hair short, leaving it up in a braid when on duty, wrapped up and pinned to her head in a bun or something to meet military standards. She had sharp cheekbones and her eyes were a bit more deep set than some. Her skin still carried that dusky reddish hue making her often mistaken for being Latino, but her eyes were gray-blue. When she focused her gaze on a person, they often commented later that they felt like a rabbit, caught in a raptors stare.

Her call sign in the air RedOtter but most just called her Red. It was a comfortable name to her, one that meant more than what most people thought of it. It symbolized things about her that others couldn't fathom.

The barracks weren't much to look at but it was where home had been for several years. Upon entering the barracks door, she headed to the row of lockers in her quadrant, thankful for the lack of personnel in the vicinity, most either out of the country or off doing other things in the early afternoon. Red pulled open locker number thirteen. A blue duffle bag sat on the bottom, empty and waiting as always. After pulling it out and setting it on the bed, the few sets of non-military clothing that Mac owned were folded and set to the side while the two sets of camos and one formal uniform were taken off their hangers and folded and put inside the bag, followed by the shower kit and laptop computer. The jeans and sweatshirts were finally placed in on top. Underwear, socks and shoes were packed in pockets, in spaces left in the bag until the bag was full.

Zipping the bag shut, she looked at the empty locker. Most of the other women that lived in this wing of the barracks had a footlocker full of gear on top of what was overflowing usually from their lockers like Red's. But years ago, Red had learned to keep her items to the minimum. It made it easier to move from one place to another or pack quickly to leave the base. She knew she never had to worry about her belongings being messed with when she wasn't around. After a quick check of the vicinity, she ran a hand between the wall and the back of the locker, feeling the tape that held a plastic bag secure to the lower section of the locker. She pulled it free before checking to make sure everything was as she left it. Her passport was inside, spare cash and two credit cards. She then leaned down and stuck her hand under the bottom of the locker and pulled the bag out that had her wallet and keys.

Some might think her paranoid but when you grew up in the slums in any number of large cities, you learned to keep things hidden and travel with the minimum amount of gear. Clothing and supplies could be easily replaced but there were some things that couldn't be, so the less she had of those items the better. She'd once been accused of being an Air Gypsy, but she simply shrugged and remained silent to that accusation. So what if she was a gypsy? The life suited her better than the easy lives of those she watched around her. Pulling down the motorcycle helmet off the top of the locker, she stopped by her bed for one last item, running her hand under the corner of the mattress to pull out her cell phone, unlocking it and checking to see if she had any messages.

She hadn't expected any and was caught by surprise as the phone showed she had a voice mail. She flipped the phone closed and would check it later when she was off the base. But she knew she needed to leave, that inner instinct telling her it was time to go before her window of opportunity closed. She pulled on her old leather flight jacket, shoving the phone in her pocket. She grabbed up her duffle bag and went out to her bike, unhooked straps that held the tarp down around it then pulled it off. She set her duffle bag on the back seat of the bike in front of the bedroll and bag of camping gear, folding the tarp up and laying it over the pile of gear before strapping everything down.

The old motorcycle roared to life on the first turn of the key, the old Harley engine growling as it rumbled in the cool afternoon air. It was March, but it wasn't much warmer than it had been a month ago. Luckily it wasn't too long of a drive to get out of the mountains and into the dry desert air. She kicked the bike into gear and headed out to the front gate where she stopped to give her leave papers to the Sergeant in Charge. With the flick of his hand in a salute, she was on her way out the gate and out to the highway, heading out of the mountains and to the arid plains below.

The evening stars came out one by one as Red laid on her bedroll, staring up at them. Her mind had been working over things during the six-hour ride from the base. When the temperature in the desert started to drop with the growing shadows of the evening, she found a small area to pull off. After finding enough dry brush to start up a small fire, she laid out her bedroll and pulled out an MRE to make supper.

When supper was a memory of paste like something on crackers and a can of peaches, she pulled out her cell phone and listened to the voicemail. "Hello. This is Mr. Cliner," came an older mans' voice, "I would like a chance to speak with you if at all possible. What I have to tell you is confidential and I do not wish to release details until I can verify you are truly Cheyenne MacPhearson. If you could call me at this number, 602-222-9674 and arrange a time when we can meet, I would greatly appreciate it. I look forward to hearing from you and I hope what I have to tell you will be worth while." There was a click and the voicemail had ended. She closed the phone, thinking about the message.

She reached over and pulled her duffle bag to her as the flames licked at the dried sagebrush she'd tossed on the fire a few minutes before. Pulling out her laptop and booting it up, she pulled out the cord and hooked it into her phone. The signal was weak but she should be able to link up to a satellite and download some information. Within a few minutes, she knew that the number given to her was registered to a Mr. Earl Cliner, retired owner of an estate firm, whose doors were now closed. There was no physical address but the area code told her it was somewhere in northern California. There was little else on the internet about Mr. Cliner or his business, so after logging off the computer, she powered it down and unhooked her phone.

After stowing away her gear for the night, she added the rest of the brush to the fire and watched it burn down to hot embers before climbing into the bedroll and forcing herself into a light sleep until real sleep took over half an hour later.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Morning light found her on the road again, heading northwest through the desert. The old Harley rumbled along, as if it was an old lion, content to be out in the sun. She had kept the engine tuned and in good repair though she let the body of the old bike be. It was better to make people think what you had wasn't worth much. If they thought it nothing but junk they wouldn't touch it. The paint was dull and faded, scratched and some of the chrome showed signs of rust. But the engine was a work of art as it roared along the curves and twists of the highway.

By 0800, Red had found a small truck stop where she waited for one of two showers while having a cup of coffee. When her number was called up to use the shower, she headed in, and avoided looking at anything for too long. It was an old and abused facility but the water was clear and warm. She quickly showered, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, brushed out her long black hair and braided it in two long braids that hung down the middle of her back. She brushed her teeth and headed back out to the café, having only spent ten minutes total in the shower facility, causing several of the men waiting their turn to raise their eyebrows at how quickly she had gotten in and out.

She took a few moments to repack her gear at the booth where she was seated. After ordering breakfast, she went to find a payphone. She paid for the call with her credit card and dialed Mr. Cliner. It rang three times before it was picked up.

"Hello?" came the older mans voice.

"This is MacPhearson. You left me a message. Where and when?" she asked, getting right to the point. This wasn't the place to ask questions and the sooner she had a location, the sooner she could plan the next part of her trip.

The man was quiet for a moment, seeming surprised by the abruptness of the woman on the other end of the line.

"Miss MacPhearson, do you know where Van Nyes Airport is?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, waiting for the rest of his message.

"How soon could you meet me there?" he asked, being just as direct as she was.

She was silent for a moment, "I can be there in ten hours. Will that be acceptable?"

"Yes. Meet me at the Stars and Stripes Hanger. I will need verification that you are who you say you are. Once I have that verification, I will let you know more," he said, thankful for once that someone was not asking him too many questions before he could actually answer them.

"Fine. I'll be there at 1900 hours today," she said and hung up the phone, probably leaving the man a little speechless on the other end.

Moving back to her table, she found the waitress coming towards her with her breakfast. It was decent fare and filling, but most of all it was hot. After eating it and having a last cup of coffee, she paid her bill and left a tip on the table as she headed out.

Around mid day she made a pit stop. A tank of gas and a road map of California later, she was back on the road, heading west. By mid afternoon, she was moving towards the airport, barely an hour out. The roads were getting busier with traffic and the air overhead was full of planes taking off and leaving the Van Nyes airport.

She had added time to her ETA because she wanted a chance to look around before heading to the hanger. The airfield was busy as any might be at this time of day. Multiple flight services ran out of this airport, everything from charter companies to stunt and film crews for Hollywood. She pulled up outside the entrance to the airfield and got off her bike. She took a moment to stretch her legs as she went and read the 'Help Wanted' board.

She figured if she might get discharged in just a few weeks, she should see what was out there for work. There were several cards on the board for pilots and mechanics, a cleaning crew and a business for sale. She took mental notes on who was advertising for what, who to call and so forth. The business for sale was of a slight interest to her as she went back to her bike and headed into the airport, going along the avenue of businesses and hangers. She passed the Stars and Stripes Air Service hanger, giving it a look over before passing by.

She had a funny feeling she had been here before, but she couldn't remember when. She had a photographic memory. It was one of those things she kept to herself but one of the reasons she was such a good reconnaissance pilot. It looked familiar, felt familiar but why, she couldn't tell. The pattern painting on the choppers also struck a chord of strange familiarity. As she drove on, the feelings bothered her as she continued to look for the business that was for sale. The building wasn't much to look at and only had a few aircraft sitting outside.

The rest of the details about the business didn't seem to settle with her, as if she suddenly found herself too distracted to bother with a search for more details. She checked her watch to see that she had thirty minutes before she was to meet Mr. Cliner. She stopped for a minute to check her surroundings before she turned the bike to go down another road that led to the back side of the Stars and Stripes hanger. She found a place to park the bike then swung her leg over the seat to climb off. She pulled the duffle bag off the back of the bike and pulled out the 9mm Beretta and holster. She checked the clip and made sure the safety was set and placed the weapon at the small of her back under her sweatshirt.

She then slung the duffle bag onto her shoulder, left the helmet secured to the bike and quickly scanned the area to make sure she wasn't being watched. She moved around to the back of the hanger, walking along the wall towards the front, watching for any signs of anyone hanging around that shouldn't be there. She stopped for a moment at the corner of the hanger as she watched the comings and goings of a crew overhauling a chopper. An older car pulled up to the parking pad on the other side of the hanger. After a moment, an older man got out of the car. His stiff joints kept him from moving too quickly. He leaned in and pulled out a briefcase and headed into the hanger without looking around.

Red waited a few more minutes, taking in the sights and sounds around her. Finally she headed towards the hanger entrance. She entered through the open doors into a calming chaos. The feeling struck her harder this time. The hanger seemed so familiar to her that it caused her to stop and look around. Her eyes focused on the man standing next to a desk where a controller worked on an old computer console. She walked up to him, remaining silent as she waited for him to finish digging through his old leather briefcase. When he shut the lid and looked up, he jumped slightly, his hand going to his heart. "Good lord. You gave me a scare." He said, trying to catch his breath.

The controller turned around to look at her, "Is there something I can do for you?" asked the woman. Red's eyes flicked from the controller back to the man.

"No, thank you. I'm here to see Mr. Cliner," she stated evenly.

The older man looked at her for a moment. "Miss MacPhearson?" he asked.

"Major MacPhearson," she corrected, using her proper title, letting it be known that she was still a member of the military.

"My pardon," said Cliner. "May I ask if you have proof of who you are?" he asked.

She looked at him carefully for a moment before setting her duffle bag down. She reached into her leather jacket and pulled out her military ID, papers, Drivers License, Multi-class pilot license and passport. She handed them over to him tentatively.

The man took them carefully and began to search through them. The man finally nodded as he looked each piece of identification individually before he handed them back to her.

"I have one last check," he stated and held up a clipboard with a place for fingerprints to be placed in squares. "Could you please ink both thumbs and then put your thumbprints on the respective squares?"

She looked at him, then at the clipboard. "What is all of this?" asking the first question she'd truly made of him.

The man looked at her, still holding the clipboard out to her. "If you pass this final identity verification, I will then be able to answer all of your questions," he said, looking at her with a penetrating stare. "But I can say nothing until I have your thumbprints and have compared them to prior thumbprints taken."

With a final guarded look, she took the clipboard and pressed her thumb to the inkpad and pressed it to the left thumb square, then switched hands, repeating the procedure on the right. When she was finished, she handed the paper back to the man before looking around for something to wipe the ink off with. She spotted what she was looking for and picked up a paper towel from the coffee carafe table and wiped the ink off her thumbs.

The man went to the back office and after a moment came back out with blown up images of her two thumbprints. He then sat down at an empty desk with another set of photocopies and a magnifying glass. While he made notes and marks on both sets of copies, she stuck both her hands in her pockets and looked around. She noticed she was getting some rather interesting looks from the mechanics moving a chopper back into the hanger bay.

Finally, Mr. Cliner came over to her and laid out the photocopies. He looked her over and then nodded.

"You are truly who you say you are. The copies of your thumbprints taken at the age of six months old, match the ones just taken a few minutes ago. Scars and calluses have ravaged a few areas of your thumbs but the main points are identical." He turned the two copies around for her to compare for herself if she wished. Picking them up, she looked at them and the notes that had been made. There was no mistaking that they were identical.

She then handed them back as she looked at Mr. Cliner. "So what does this mean?" she asked.

He smiled at her, "It means my job is now at an end and you are about to be a very wealthy woman," he said as he motioned for her to join him in the office. "Rachelle, we are not to be disturbed," he stated as the controller nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

He picked up his briefcase and motioned for her to follow him. She bent down and picked up her duffle bag, giving the hanger a quick look around and made her way into the office where he shut the door and turned down the blinds. He sat down at the desk, placing the briefcase in front of him, but turned it so that she could easily have seen what was inside when he opened it. When he did, she saw a wood and metal box along with a scrambler. She blinked at him for a moment, but when he flicked on the scrambler he looked like he relaxed a little more.

He was quiet while he appraised the woman before him. She was slender, shorter in height but those are what made great pilots, or so he'd been told. She had the reddish brown skin of her mothers' Native American heritage, long black hair in twin braids hanging down her back. Her eyes though, the chiseled nose and sharp cheekbones belonged to her father. The way she looked at him, the eyes like a predator simply waiting for the right moment to strike were what convinced him of her true heritage. Only one other person used to look through him like that and he had met many in his life. But that same look was now coming from the woman across the desk from him.

"Let me apologize for all of the secrecy in regards to this. I know you are wondering what this is all about and I will get to that in time. First off, let me explain who I am and what I do." He shifted in his chair as he pulled out a photo from the briefcase and handed it to her. She took it and looked at it, seeing two men in the black and white picture, one with a laugh and the other gave a smirk back towards the camera. One was an older man, gray hair, heavy around the waist and bushy eyebrows. The other one had guarded eyes, light in color and sharp facial features. He was slender and not quite as tall as the older man to his right. But the older man was laughing at something, the younger man giving a smirk of a smile, as if that was all he ever gave to show his amusement. Both seemed familiar as that strange feeling deep inside her returning from earlier when she first saw the hanger.

"Do you know these two?" he asked her as she looked at the picture. When she shook her head, he could tell that she wasn't sure but couldn't figure out why they seemed familiar to her. "The man on the left is Dominic Santini, former owner and operator of Santini Air, what is now known as Stars and Stripes Air Service. The man to his right is Stringfellow Hawke," he said, pausing for a moment, "Your biological father."

She looked up suddenly from the picture to his face but saw nothing to betray that he was lying about this. She raised one eyebrow as she waited for him to continue, her heart racing and her hands starting to sweat at the news but she let nothing escape to the outside world about what she was feeling.

He continued, "Both men were involved in many operations involving the government, the military and secret agencies. There is more but I am not at liberty to tell you right now. Suffice it to say, when your mother showed up on Hawke's doorstep with you, almost fifteen months after she had left Stringfellow, he was a little surprised. They had spent some time together after he had rescued her from a car crash up in the mountains around Eagle Lake where his cabin is. She disappeared a few weeks after the accident and fifteen months later, she returned to tell him she was dying, that you were his child and she couldn't care for you any longer. She left you with him and disappeared one final time. They found her body several months later and it was confirmed by autopsy that she had died of an invasive form of brain cancer."

He grew quiet, watching the woman in front of him. That dark brooding look that Hawke used to have most of the time showed through in full force at the moment. But her silence connected her even more to her father. He continued. "I was brought in to document your existence, taking foot, finger and thumb prints back then we didn't have DNA testing. Hawke admitted that he didn't have the ability to take care of a six month old child, so the decision was made to give you up for adoption. He was involved in a line of work with an American intelligence agency that could have cost him his life at any time and required him to be out of the country for weeks at a time."

He sighed softly, "So the papers were all signed and you were put up for adoption. You were adopted by Michael and Kristi MacPhearson, both officers in the Air Force. You lived with them until your adoptive mother was killed in Desert Storm. Your father retired from the Air Force a year afterwards and from there, you two moved around the United States. I have a record of where you went, how long you were there and schooling you received. Unfortunately, your adoptive father drank himself into some jail time where he died waiting for his trial for drunk driving, leaving you to foster care since no other living relatives of your adoptive parents could be tracked down. You were fifteen. After a short time in juvenile detention for breaking into someone's home to steal money and food, you were fostered out to one Angus MacGyver, the very man who caught you trying to steal from him. When you reached the age of seventeen, you enlisted into the Air Force and you've been there ever since. You are a highly decorated military officer but you've had problems in the Air Force as well and right now you are on a two week forced leave while you are being evaluated for your latest stunt with an F-16 during a test run."

Her eyes were cold and focused on the man across the table from her, her jaw clenching, causing the lines of her face to sharpen and her eyes to flash with suspicion. But she made no move to leave or move towards him. She said nothing, her eyes simply focused on him with an unwavering stare.

"Look young lady. You're life has been hell and you seem to be carrying around a lot of baggage because of it. There was nothing for you to inherit from your adoptive father, since he already had drunk up his pension, his savings and your adoptive mothers' inheritance. You have survived on your own and done rather well. You can fly anything that was meant to fly and you're good at it. You are extremely intelligent and are highly respected among your equals. I have had to make it my job to keep track of you. That's what I was paid to do from the time that you were handed over to the adoption agency. Your biological father knew that in his line of work any connections to a child could be used against him. Santini was the one that received my once a year report on you until his death in 1988. A chopper he and Hawke were preparing to take off in exploded out on the tarmac and killed Santini instantly. Your father had been thrown out of the chopper with the explosion, but died a week later in the hospital due to complications from his injuries."

He handed her a few more pictures of the ruined chopper and a newspaper article about the explosion and casualties. "Both men had plans in place in case something like that happened. Dom was like a father to Hawke, and he like a son to Dom. When Dominic was killed, everything in his estate transferred to String, but with Strings death, there was a line of progression set up to see who got the estate. It's actually a very strange estate but my company managed to keep things straight and tracked. The estate would stay in escrow for twenty years after Hawke's death. At the end of twenty years, today to be exact, the estate would be divided up among those left alive on the list," he said, watching her quietly.

She blinked, looking slightly confused. She shifted in her chair, still watching him though. Again, silence met him as he waited to see if she had questions. With a sigh he continued as he pulled out a list from his briefcase. "As of today, you are the soul inheritor of his and Dominic Santini's combined estates. You're Uncle Saint John was a MIA POW for sixteen years after Vietnam. He was released and returned to the States only a few months after the explosion had killed Dom and Hawke. He took over running Santini Air until he broke his neck in a skiing accident a few years later. You had a half brother but he and his mother were killed by a drunk driver. There was a nephew, the son of your uncle and he was killed a few years ago in the 9/11 attacks. The three people String called friends, which meant they were like family, were all killed before the nephew died. He was the last one in line before you," he said looking quite saddened as he looked over the list of names as if remembering the many years and how everything came about.

Her head hurt. She was someone who never had family or hardly any friends, having learned many hard lessons as a kid but also during her time in the Air Force as well. And in one hour, she went from having nothing in her life except what she made for herself to now having a father, a half brother, an uncle and a cousin that were all deceased, leaving her alone once again in one fell swoop. She looked over the pictures the man handed her. She felt as if she would go insane by this news, not even knowing what to say, but she knew she had to say something. "Why am I last on the list if I was his first child?" she asked, trying to make sense of it all.

Cliner got up and paced to the window and again. "I knew Hawke before he went to Vietnam. His parents were killed in a boating accident when he was twelve. They died and he lived. A week before he shipped overseas, he was in a car accident with his girlfriend. She died but he walked away without a scratch. In Vietnam, he flew extraction runs and on one in particular, both he and your Uncle went down in the crash. He was picked up, his brother wasn't and was taken prisoner and listed as MIA. He never saw St. John again, though he looked tirelessly for him, trying to find out anything about him that would either bring him home alive or at least bring his body back to the States for a proper burial." He stopped and looked out the slit in the blinds before looking back at her. "He was afraid that anyone that got close to him would die or be lost. So he didn't even want to know about you though I'm sure he thought about you. Dom did. But he told Hawke nothing upon his request. He was a strange one at times but apparently you have 'escaped' the Hawke curse since you never really met him and only Hawke and Dom knew you existed."

He finally sat down again and looked at her with tired eyes. "So I've been paid to keep track of everyone on that list until the twenty years expired on the estate requirements or they died. You are the last because Hawke didn't want to draw attention to you. You would have split the estate with anyone left alive according to his requests, but since you are the last one left of his legacy, you get all of it," he said as he rubbed his eyes.

She learned a lot from the look in his eyes. He had cared for both men and had agreed to do this for them, but it had become a burden as the list of people dwindled down. He had been left with nothing to do but keep track of an unknown. But the twenty years was over and he was able now to place the burden of the estate on someone else's shoulders…hers. She finally reacted to all of this with a large exhale of air and rubbed her forehead. She had thousands of questions but could put voice to none of them. They were so jumbled and garbled up that she couldn't seem to think straight.

Finally she was able to ask one question, "So, what now?" she asked him, not even caring what the estate was worth. She looked down at the picture of Dom and Hawke seeming to have a good laugh about something, feeling a wrench in her gut as she vaguely remembered the laughter of an older man from her memories. Mr. Cliner took the photos back from her numb fingers except the one she held tight to.

"I have legal papers for you to sign when Mr. Kirkmand and Ms Elleth arrive. He's an estate lawyer I hired two weeks ago and she is a third party for a witness that I hired yesterday. Once the papers are all signed to turn the full estate over to you, I will hand this briefcase and its full contents over to you with directions to the cabin your father owned. Once I leave here, you can go through the full contents of the case, the will, the estate, photos and the videotape left as a documentary for you. I will not discuss in the open what you will receive because even to this day I am still a bit paranoid that someone might be looking over my shoulder, thus the use of the scrambler."

There was a long moment of silence as a knock on the door came, causing Cliner to turn the briefcase back around so that he was the only one who saw what was in the case. "Come in," he called out.

The door opened and a young man dressed in a suit came into the room. He was definitely a lawyer down to the formal tack tie. But there was honesty about his face that spoke more than any suit or look could. He came in and held out a hand to Cliner.

"Good afternoon Mr. Cliner. I hope I'm not too early."

Cliner shook his head, "No, I was just filling in Major MacPhearson about what has lead up to this day. We are now only waiting for Ms Elleth to show to be the witness," he said. The man turned his gaze to her and she stood, extending a hand, which he took. His hands were warm and dry. She only said "A pleasure." to him in greeting. He nodded and turned to the sound of the tap on the door.

"Ah, Ms Elleth. Please come in and shut the door behind you. We should get to this as I have a dinner date in an hour," he said, pulling out a large stack of papers, all marked with tabs and indicators as to where to sign. He motioned for Mac to take the seat closest to him, then Ms. Elleth to sit next to her, followed by Mr. Kirkmand. Cliner handed her the stack of papers, "Feel free to read through them or you can simply sign them and take a copy for further review later."

Mac looked at him with a slightly raised eyebrow and page by page, looked at each one, her photographic memory capturing everything and processing it as she went smoothly through each page. She knew what each section explained from her rights to the liability and inheritance and so forth. With each section finished, she signed her name, handed that stack to Ms Elleth who then notarized and witnessed it before handing it to the lawyer. Within twenty minutes, the stack of papers now sat in Mr. Kirkmand's hands.

Looking back up at Mr. Cliner, who seemed baffled at the process that she went through with the papers, "Would you like me to explain any of it to you?" he asked, seeming unsure she had read even a little of it. She shook her head and he asked for verification. "Are you sure?" he said, "That was a great deal of paperwork to go through and sign."

Mac stood up as she capped the pen, holding a hand out to Ms Elleth. "Thank you, Ms. Elleth for your time. It was a pleasure to meet you," she said as she looked at Mr. Kirkmand. "I would like to accompany you to the courthouse to make sure those are turned into the county clerk before the close of business today," she said, not willing to trust anyone at this point.

The lawyer looked at her for a moment and then nodded, "Of course Major MacPhearson. I'll wait outside," he said as he stepped from the office after shaking her hand.

When both had left the office, she shut the door behind them. "Mr. Cliner. I am certain I don't need you to explain any of that to me. In fact I could recite back to you the entire two hundred and sixty four page document if you wished." She looked at him with a slight smirk and began to tell him what the first two paragraphs read word for word as his mouth fell open.

Then with a laugh, he smiled brightly, "Ah, a true Hawke, always full of surprises. Well, here is the briefcase with a flash drive full of what I have on everyone on that list, the files you just signed, photos and information in regards to your inheritance, one of which is this business you are standing in. Everything belongs to you now," he said as he turned off the scrambler and then locked his briefcase. He then flashed her a succession of four numbers with his fingers. She didn't need to be a mind reader to know that he had just shown her the combination to the briefcase and she nodded in understanding.

He then held open the door for her. Bending over, she picked up her duffle bag and slung it on her shoulder before taking the briefcase from Mr. Cliner. She paused outside the office and held out her hand. "Thank you," she said quietly and for once, he saw her cold blue eyes soften, melting a little to show him the real person underneath. Her voice was quiet as he took the hand and shook it.

"It was my pleasure and my burden. I am glad that it is over but I am here if you ever need to ask questions or just to talk," he said, giving her a light salute as he headed towards the door.

She turned her blue gaze to the lawyer, "Care to give me a lift?" she asked directly. "I'll catch a cab back from the County Courthouse," she said, letting him know that she wasn't expecting him to be a taxi service for her.

He nodded and motioned for her to follow him. She turned a little and looked at the controller. "Got a spare set of keys to this place?" she asked. The woman looked at her a bit baffled. "You know…keys to get in the door? I'm the new owner of this business."

The woman blinked again in surprise but nodded, taking a key from her desk and going over to unlock the cabinet that held the spare keys. She brought back a keychain that held a blue star and had four keys on it. "Here you go," she said, looking a little stunned.

Red took the keys and pocketed them. "Don't know when I'll get back here so close up or do whatever you guys normally do around here on whatever schedule you work off of. I'll let myself in if it's locked up," she said as she turned and headed after Mr. Kirkmand.

The woman simply stared after the black haired woman that just claimed ownership, not sure if she should believe what she just heard.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The trip to the county clerk's office at the courthouse took a good half hour. The filing of the paperwork and stamped receipt to show legal ownership, along with the transfer of title on equipment took the rest of the afternoon. It was closing time by the time she stepped out of the courthouse. She shook Mr. Kirkmands hand again. "Thank you. If I have any further need of your services, I'll definitely give you a call. It was greatly appreciated," she said politely as he shook her hand in return.

"My pleasure," he said with a gentle smile and turned to head to his car.

She stood on the corner for a moment before waving down a taxi. "Van Nueys Airport. Stars and Stripes Air Service," she commanded, handing him a twenty to get the meter running. The cabbie nodded and pulled out into a small opening in traffic. She didn't bother to look at any of the paperwork as they worked their way through rush hour traffic, making the trip back an agonizing hour and a half.

It reminded her of her short stint in New York. It was filthy, smelled and was too crowded for her taste. She and her dad had lived there for two years, just shy of the ghettos. She learned to fight after she'd come home the first day of school sporting a black eye and a broken finger. Someone had taken a dislike to her 'accent' and had thrown her around a bit to get her used to the 'big city'.

She brought her thoughts back to the present with a wrench, focusing her attention on her surroundings. The cabbie pulled into the parking lot just before 1900 hours. She handed him cash for the trip, letting him keep the twenty as a tip. The man seemed very appreciative of it and gave her a little salute as he prepared to pull away. She would have to call on him if she ever needed a ride somewhere. He couldn't speak very good English but that was fine with her. It was the lack of conversation and service she desired.

The hanger was locked up tight and she pulled out the keychain from her pocket and after working through the keys on the chain, the third key got the door to unlock. Flipping on the lights, she took a good look around. The place was empty for the night, two choppers in the repair bays and parts of a disassembled engine were lying on a workbench waiting for a part.

She went into the office after finding the key that unlocked it and set down the briefcase and her duffle bag inside the door. She grimaced at the mess the office was in. For the moment, it would have to wait. She headed back outside to retrieved her motorcycle from where she left it, bringing it around to the hanger and pulling it inside. Once she had the bike pushed into an out-of-the-way corner, she locked up the hanger from the inside.

Going over to the controller's desk, she sat down at it for a moment as she reached for the phone, dialing up a number she'd memorized years ago. She just hoped it was still an active number. The phone rang several times before an answering machine picked up. The voice sounded older than she remembered but listened to the message, 'You know the drill. Leave a name, number and message…oh and the date you called. Might be times I don't get a chance to return calls for awhile.' *Beep!*

She swallowed a little and spoke into the phone. "Hey. It's Red. Been a long time since we last got a chance to talk. Mostly my fault I guess. Was wondering if you'd be interested in helping me check out some property in California I inherited today. It's March 21st. Time is 1930 hours Pacific Time. Number is xxx-xxx-xxxx. I can pick you up and fly us there if you need a lift." With that, she hung up.

She'd used her nickname she'd had since she was ten. Just even saying it reminded her of those days long gone. Her adoptive mother had taken her, after much pleading and begging, to a Native American Dance Demonstration. She had wanted to see something about her heritage. She had spent the morning half hiding behind her mother, watching the dancing with fascination but too shy to actually go up and talk to any of the brightly decorated adults.

It wasn't until several other children her age ran up to her and included her in their game of tag. With a nod from her mother, she'd run off at full speed after the other kids. They had played hard all afternoon, dodging, ducking and running wild. When the kids had finally taken a break to get something to drink, an old man had approached her as she rested.

His face was a mass of wrinkles, his black hair had long ago turned to gray but his smile was warm and friendly. He had asked her a few questions about her parents and what tribe she belonged to. When he'd learned she was adopted and that she didn't know anything other than her mother was Cheyenne, thus the reason for her first name, the old man laughed heartily. He nodded to himself as if he was reminded of something. Her mother had come over to see if she was all right in the company of the old man.

The man smiled at her mother and nodded, "You have a very talented and special daughter you have taken under your wing. She will do great things in her life, I think," he said before looking back at her. He nodded once more to himself. "You are like the little red otter from the River People. Shy of all new things but soon willing to participate once curiosity has overcome all reason. The Red Otter is swift and cunning within the water, just like you were when playing with the other children. But Red Otter can also attract trouble easily if it's not careful to watch its tail," he said, looking seriously at Cheyenne.

Her mother wasn't sure what to say to him but he had turned and walked slowly away. They had headed home soon after that but her mother soon took to calling her RedOtter or 'Red' for short. It wasn't that she hated her first name but it seemed almost as if she was stereotyped by it. It stuck with her even as she entered the Air Force. Once there, she took up her nickname again of RedOtter as her call sign.

With a sigh, she shook away the memories of her past. She stood up and headed back toward the office. As she stood in the doorway, she boggled at the mess of paperwork stacked up in every corner. After a few minutes of searching, she found several empty boxes and two trashcans then began the task of cleaning out the office. She knew it was going to be a late night but she needed to start somewhere in searching for records, papers, logs of activity, anything she could get her hands on to read about this place. Before she did anything tomorrow, she had to know what the status of this business was before making decisions on staff and operations. From the looks of things, half of the stuff in the office hadn't been touched in twenty years.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

0730 brought Rachelle to the front door of the hanger. She was always the first one here in the morning since she didn't live far away. She had fretted all night about the strange woman that had shown up the day before and demanded keys, saying she was the new owner. She wondered if she'd even have a job today. She'd never done wrong by this company but she didn't know this new woman and she might not like anyone that worked here.

Her keys worked in the lock and as she opened the door, she found the lights over her desk were on and the office was well lit. The smell of coffee greeted her as she moved over to her desk to set her purse down and made her way slowly towards the office. She blinked as she looked through the office. It looked like….an office, not a pit or the recycle bin it had become. She had once tried to help clean it out but was abruptly told by the manager to leave it as it was. The shelves on the wall were organized with manuals and trophies she'd never seen before. There were pictures on the walls that had been taken down many years ago. The desk, four chairs and the floor around the back of the office were actually visible and of all things, clean. The file cabinets were uncovered from the mounds of paper on top of it and the two drawers that were open showed files in an organized order.

Outside the office were two large garbage cans full of junk and papers, one large box full of old books and another full of papers that might have sensitive information on them. There was a bucket of bits and pieces of junk that had gotten accumulated over the years under the piles of paperwork sitting along with the other containers of trash.

It then dawned on her that she hadn't seen the woman from the day before. She walked back out of the now clean office and looked around again. "Hello?" she said aloud, her voice echoing off the walls of the hanger. "Is anyone here?" she called out again as she scanned the room. The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs from the storage loft made her look up. The Native American looking woman from the day before was coming down with a box of items in her arms. She looked like she'd spent the night in a dust bin and most likely she had, knowing the state of the office and the loft.

The woman actually smiled a little at her, "Hi," she said as she set foot on the hanger floor. She set the box down on an empty desk before extending a hand to her. "We didn't get to meet formally yesterday. I'm Cheyenne MacPhearson. But please call me Red if you like. It's easier to yell," she said as Rachelle shook the woman's hand.

"I'm Rachelle Winters. I'm sort of the catch all here, I guess. Controller, secretary, gopher and and and…" she said, trying to joke a little. She noticed the woman smiled a bit more warmly at her.

"So I've read. What time do the others usually get here?" she asked as she looked around for a moment.

"A little after eight usually if traffic isn't too bad," answered Rachelle.

"All right. If I read the schedule correctly, we don't have any appointments for the next two days until we can get the parts for that engine over there?" she asked, pointing towards the disassembled mess on the bench.

Rachelle nodded. "We've had a hell of a time trying to get the part out of our supplier," she said sounding a little frustrated, "I can't get Mr. Walker to try any other supplier."

Red nodded with a bit of a smile. "Tell you what. As soon as the crew is here, I'll get them started on a few things and then you and I can sit and have a talk."

Rachelle suddenly looked terrified at the prospect and Red raised an eyebrow. Did she think she was getting canned? With a slight chuckle, Red shook her head, "Don't worry Ms Winter, I'm not going to fire you. You've done quite well with what little you've been given and I hope by the end of our discussion this morning, things will be looking much better for you."

Rachelle wasn't quite sure what to make of that but she relaxed a little and went about her morning duties as usual. She poured a cup of coffee for herself and started to get things ready for the day. One by one, the crew came in, milling about the coffee pot as they marveled at the state of the office, catching glimpses inside the windows and the open door. Red sat at the desk in the office, going over something on her laptop. She was still dressed in the same clothes they'd first seen her in the day before, though with a bit more dust and grim about them.

When all of the employees were present, Rachelle knocked on the office doorframe. "Red. We're all here," she said quietly, seeing those cool eyes look up at her over the edge of the laptop. With a nod, Red stood up and walked out to the hanger to look over the three men standing there. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sampled it before addressing them.

"Gentlemen, I'm Cheyenne MacPhearson and I'm the new owner of this business. Please call me Red. Mr. Walker has retired and will no longer be running this business. For the next two days, we have nothing on the roster for jobs. It'll be something we'll have to work at though, but just because we don't have any work doesn't mean you'll be sitting idle. By the end of tomorrow, I want to see this hanger cleaned up, organized and all of the aircraft that is a part of the business, cleaned and serviced. I will also be evaluating each one of you for your knowledge in aviation mechanics and/or your flying skills." She looked at each person standing there, seeing the nervous looks in their eyes.

"I have no intention at this time of firing anyone, but this is a new day and a new start. To get this business back off the ground and into the air, we're going to have to put on a better face for the public. Anything going on under the table ends right now. If you don't feel you can work under these conditions, then I will ask for your resignation with no questions asked. Otherwise, I want you three to start by cleaning out the loft. Anything that is in the way of supplies can stay up there but at least organize and inventoried. Any junk, paperwork, boxes of odds and ends needs to come down here to the hanger floor. I'll go through it later. I want to see things dusted, mopped and swept out. Then you can work on cleaning up and organizing the tool chests and parts cabinets," she said, her voice sounding stern, giving no question that she meant business. "If you find we are missing tools or equipment is worn out, please make a note as to what is a priority to be replaced and what can be used for a little longer."

The men looked at each other before one spoke up. He was the youngest of the three and from what she could tell of the paperwork she'd read, the hothead of the group. "What experience do you have running a business like this? Do you even know how to fly?" he asked with a slight smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.

Red took slow steps towards him, her eyes snapped with cold calculation. "Kid, you have no idea who you're talking to, do you?" she asked, her voice low and even.

The kid shook his head but gave a little snort with his smirk. "Nope, I ain't never heard of you before."

She came up to him, stopping just within arms reach, her hands clasped behind her back, looking for all the world like a drill sergeant about to reprimand an unruly solider. The other two men, more seasoned and possibly a little wiser, both moved a little out of the way, wanting to see what happened next but not wanting to be involved.

Red flicked her eyes in their general directions but said nothing to them as she looked back at the kid. "My name is MAJOR Cheyenne MacPhearson. I am a fighter pilot for Uncle Sam of these here United States. I've flown more missions, put in more hours behind the stick and flown more types of aircraft than you can think of. I have my licenses to fly anything from biplane, chopper to 737's. I was already flying choppers when you were still sucking on your momma's tit and wearing diapers. I have two purple hearts, multiple other medals and accommodations for action and bravery in the field," she said, glaring at the kid who looked suddenly like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

There was a soft whistle behind her from one of the other men who must have served in the military at one time or another. "Now, I am your boss and when I say jump, you better be asking how high or I'll be drop kicking your ass out onto the pavement to go work somewhere else. Do we have an understanding?" she asked, her voice still low and even.

The kid swallowed and nodded, his eyes a little wider. "Yes ma'am," he said as he backed up a step.

"Good. Now, gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to get to work while I have a meeting with Ms Winters," she said, her voice now sounding as normal as it had before. She turned and headed back into her office, the four exchanging looks and then went their separate ways. Rachelle headed to the office and the three men went to get brooms and rags before heading to the loft.

Red motioned for her to shut the door behind her and take a seat. Red leaned back in the office chair, folding her hands over her stomach, her elbows resting on the arms of the chair. "So…" she said as Rachelle got herself settled. "Think I'll have any more problems with the kid? Is his ego too big to deal with a woman talking down to him like that?"

Rachelle blinked for a moment, "Actually no. He reminds me of a pack dog, looking to challenge the top dog but when that challenge is met, he backs off and behaves with the rest of the dogs in the pack," she said, getting a chuckle out of Red and a nod.

"I got that impression too." Red shifted a little in her chair. "Now onto business. Ms. Winters, I see by your file that you've worked here for five years, you have your pilot's license for choppers and you've managed to get in your minimum hours to keep your license valid but you don't actually fly for the company unless it's absolutely necessary, correct?"

There was a little nod of her head but she said nothing in return.

Red continued, "From what I could tell of your files, your organizational skills and a few comments you've made, your talents could be better used for something more than just as the controller." Red watched her expression and noted Rachelle looked terribly nervous but yet with a sense of excitement, wondering what Red might be getting at.

"How would you like to be the new manager of the business? I am still part of the Air Force and until I retire or for some reason, get discharged, I can't run this business from Nevada. I need someone with a good head on their shoulders who knows the business and has some good, new ideas." She leaned forward in her chair with a slight smile on her lips. "It comes with a pay raise, full benefits and if the business grows, so will your year-end bonus."

Rachelle blinked and looked at Red as if she had just grown a second head, "Me…but I .. you want me to be the manager? Are you sure I'm qualified…I mean, I'm just the controller," she stammered, trying to make sure she had heard Red right.

Red nodded, "You might have been 'just the controller' but you ordered parts, did most of the business work around here, worked with what you could and have been around enough to see what 'not' to do and what works. It'll mean more hours and I see by your file that you have a daughter and are a single parent, but a pay raise might help a little with some of the every day stresses of raising a kid on your own?" she asked, hoping Rachelle would bite.

Rachelle still looked dazed, "I…I would be honored to manage the business for you. I've had so many ideas but Mr. Walker really was never interested in any of them," She said, beginning to ramble before stopping herself.

Red nodded and handed her a pad of paper with several pages of written notes. "Now, since that's done, here is a list of things we either need to order in supplies or things I would like to see done in the next two days to help the men get this place up to snuff so we can all start fresh. It might mean spending a little more than we should but if it will bring in business, we'll handle the extra cost."

Rachelle looked over the list carefully. Basic office and cleaning supplies, finding a new parts distributor, order new overalls and uniforms for the office crew from jackets to shirts. Order a new computer system to have three computers hooked to a central server. Advertising flyers and mailers for putting out the word that the business was under new management and ownership. Evaluation of the price of services, seeing what the competitors were charging and adjusting the pricing to meet the market demand. Last on the list was finding a company that shredded paperwork since the boxes of it out on the hanger floor were probably going to grow even more before all of the clean up was done. Rachelle went back over the list again, her excitement growing as she saw the great potential in what this business could be.

For the next two hours, they went over items on the list and Rachelle's ideas for things in the future. When she left the office, Rachelle felt like she was walking on air. The men were mostly done with the loft and a stack of boxes sat on the floor to be inspected or sorted through. Red knew it was going to be another long day, but it was a good start.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

As the next two days progressed, each person was pulled aside to the office, questioned on ideas, problems, training and experience. The two mechanics were tested on their knowledge of the engines of the equipment owned by the company. Then a test flight was done with all four of them for her to evaluate how they handled themselves in stressful situations. By the end of the second day, the hanger looked much better and things were on the up and up with getting everything cleaned, repaired and replaced. It had been two hard, long days but the four seemed to work much better together. There was a sense of relaxation that was lacking the day she had first walked into the office.

Red had stayed late each day, then used the shower in the restroom to clean up, the washing machines to wash her clothes and often went out to grab a bite to eat. When she slept, it was in the bedroll up in the loft where a cot was set up for anyone who needed to catch a few hours of sleep between jobs. She had been putting off finding Hawke's cabin but now that the two days were up, she knew she couldn't put it off any longer. She had just over a week of leave left and knew she had to put things right with whatever else she found in regards to her inheritance and her heritage.

That Saturday, the crew had a filming job they had to go on. Luckily before they left, the jackets and shirts had been delivered. The chopper had been cleaned within an inch of its life, inside and out, the camera and rigging checked and secured. The pilot and film man both looked quite nice in their new shirts and jackets. Rachelle insisted everyone get their picture in front of the chopper in their new gear.

She set up the camera on a tripod and wanted everyone be together in one picture, even Red. After much prodding by Rachelle and Mark, who was to be the pilot for this job, Red stood with the others as several pictures of the group were taken. Red just rolled her eyes as she saw the group off and got Kent working on the disassembled engine they had finally gotten a part for.

"Rachelle, I'm going to take the older chopper and go for a trip I've been putting off. I might be gone for a day or maybe as long as five. I could end up making a few trips back and forth to the hanger. I won't know much till I find the cabin that Hawke left in his will."

By now Rachelle was aware of the circumstances of Red being the new business owner and who her father had been. "I can be reached by cell phone or radio but if it's an emergency and you can't raise me, I'll be up around Eagle Lake," she said as she pulled out the duffle bag and briefcase that had been stored under the desk until now.

Rachelle looked a little panicked for a minute, "All right," her voice seeming a bit uncertain.

Red turned and looked at her with a slight smile that actually warmed her eyes a little. "You're a smart woman Rachelle. You know how to run this place probably better than I do. You should move your things into the office since it's yours now. Just leave the photos and trophies up for now. Keep working on the list we wrote up. We're going to need to have an accountant come in at some time in the next month to get our books up to par and give us a trial audit. Usually the government loves to audit businesses that have changed hands or were inherited with an estate. I don't want to be caught by surprise and I'm sure if we take those precautions, it'll make you're life easier. But you can do this. If you really can't work something out, call me. Otherwise, I trust you to do the best you can," she said with another smile.

Rachelle nodded and looked a little more relaxed. "All right. Take care and be safe," she said as Red turned back around and headed towards the oldest chopper in the fleet of four. She secured her gear in the back and pulled out the instructions and location that Mr. Cliner had given her on how to get to the cabin.

She climbed into the pilot seat and started the old bird up. Within moments, she had the clearance from the airport controller to take off. The chopper responded smoothly and she swung it north and headed up the coast towards Eagle Lake.

She'd found the cabin with little difficulty, but from the air, it was hard to tell what kind of shape it was in. She landed in an open space since the landing dock that used to sit in the water had rotted and fallen in. As she had flown around the lake, she saw all of the new development and houses going up around the lakes edge. This was beginning to be the 'upscale' area of the northern coastline, a protected lake near the ocean surrounded by mountains on all sides made it an ideal yuppie paradise. Too bad that those living there didn't value nature as it should be. From elegantly manicured lawns and landscaping to the latest in house designs spoke more loudly than words ever could about the wasteful nature of those settling this 'untamed' land.

She stood in front of the cabin that sat in the middle of the largest privately owned section of land on the lake. It was over 30,000 square acres but by looking the cabin over, she knew she was going to need to put some work into it. It had stood empty for at least sixteen years since the death of her Uncle, Sinjin. The windows and doors were all boarded up, the chimneys capped off to keep birds and bats from roosting in them and the trees around the cabin had grown taller. Their limbs hung low over the roof as if trying to hide it from the casual observer. The porch had seen better days and needed some work. With no one to maintain it for all these years, nature had taken its toll. Warped floor boards squeaked as she moved across them towards the boarded up door, making her steps as light as possible to avoid possible rotten spots.

After setting her duffle and briefcase by the front door, she walked slowly around the cabin, taking in everything she could. She tried to appraise how good or bad the situation might be. Luckily, the dry mountain air had kept the walls and most of the roof in a decent shape but the area was littered with a heavy layer of pine needles, limbs from trees and miscellaneous junk that had been dumped off on the property. One thing she knew for sure that she'd have to do soon was to have a survey team come out and survey the property lines. She wanted to make sure that they were properly registered to avoid complications with people that were moving into the area. She'd have to spend some time and do a tour of the 30,000 acres to make sure that things were still in proper order. But that was another issue to tackle later. Right now, she had a cabin to inspect.

She made two circuits around the cabin before ending back at the front door. Looking it over to see how secure the boarding over the door was, she headed back to the chopper to pull out the toolbox and a crowbar. Whoever had put the boarding up had done a decent job of securing it to the outer walls of the cabin. Between screws and nails to contend with, it obviously had kept anyone out. Red went to work on the panel over the door, but was sweating by the time she got it off.

Finally stepping up to the door that was revealed behind the panel she pulled out the keychain that Rachelle had given her the first day. She tried the two that unlocked nothing at the hanger. Finding that one fit the lock, it took a little jimmying but she finally got the stubborn lock to turn. She hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open, the hinges creaked in protest.

The dust stirred up by the breeze of the front door opening swirled in the shafts of sunlight that came through the door. The sunlight only illuminated the small patch in front of the door, the rest of the inside remained dark and lacking form. She felt the wall on the inside of the doorway for a light switch and was surprised to find one. She knew it wouldn't work but she tried it anyway. The lights stayed off and she sighed a little.

She felt drained suddenly, as if this whole mess was too much for her to handle all at once. The need to flee was almost too great for her to ignore. She turned to look out at the chopper, knowing that freedom was just a flip of the switches away, a turn of the rotors and she could go anywhere the wind took her. She didn't know this man she now owed everything to. She'd been a gypsy her whole life, going wherever the Air Force sent her, volunteering for missions anywhere around the world. She'd seen many things in her life but hadn't felt the need to settle down. She had little in material possessions and had liked it that way. Now she owned a business that had four people that relied on her to make good decisions to keep the money flowing in to pay bills and pay their wages.

She now had 30,000 plus acres of timberland around Eagle Lake. It was large enough that she could sell chunks of it and make a fortune. Even if she did that, she would never have a neighbor closer than a mile or two. But the weight of responsibility to her biological fathers legacy, if that's what one called it, pulled on her, keeping her grounded and keeping her from taking those few steps towards the chopper and simply leaving. She sat down on the front steps of the porch trying to sort out the jumble of feelings within her. She didn't know what to think or what to feel, but it came crushing in on her, making her feel as if she were being smothered.

If she left, would she be running away from something she had to finally face or would she be delaying the inevitable. She had been running away from her past for years now, letting nothing tie her down to one place for too long. She remembered the feelings of madness as she watched her adoptive father drink himself into a stupor night after night after her adoptive mother had died. She had been unable to talk sense into him. She had even taken on odd jobs like house painting, mowing lawns and babysitting, even in uncertain neighborhoods just to put food on the table for both of them as he drank his wife's inheritance away. She watched him slowly poison himself with the booze and saw the results of his mindless drinking binges where he was no longer a man, but something more prehistoric. They had gone from Dallas to New Orleans. From there they went to Miami and on to New York. They hit Pittsburg, Minneapolis then Denver. They had stayed the longest in Seattle but the day finally came when she was taken to a foster home because her father hadn't come home for two days, only to be told that he was in jail, having everything they owned seized and put into storage for possible sale to pay off his legal bills.

She had been handed over to the state at the age of fourteen with nothing but the clothes on her back and a nylon jacket. She was bounced from foster home to foster home until word came that her father had died in jail almost a year later. She never got much in the way of details as to how he had died but she could guess. In anger at the whole thing, she fled from Seattle to California. She had managed to steal a chopper and fly it for several hundred miles before having to abandon it when it ran out of gas and take off on foot. She had wandered around several of the larger cities in California for a few months until she was caught trying to loot a houseboat in 1990. She had been looking for food or cash, something that would keep her going for a few more weeks when the owner of the houseboat had come home to find her rummaging through his fridge.

She had usually been fairly good at knowing when she was in trouble or in danger but she had been sick with a head cold for several weeks, unable to shake it and the cold medications she'd swiped from the store had caused her to be quite lethargic, slowing down her survival instincts and reaction times. The guy had caught her, cornered and literally sat on her until the cops came. The next few days were still a blur of fear. Terrified that she would be sent away to jail to die like her father did, she kept to herself, choosing not to answer even the simplest of questions.

Six days later, she was released into the care of another foster family. She'd been told by the case worker that if she ran away from this foster home, the police would issue an arrest warrant and she would spend the next few years in juvi. She dreaded going to them, but Mr. and Mrs. James Pool turned out to be older than most foster parents she'd been placed with. They had children of their own that had grown and moved away to start their own lives. Mr. James Pool worked for a company called 'Phoenix Foundation' and Mrs. Betty Pool was a retired nurse, often doing errands for several elderly neighbors and some sideline babysitting to keep her busy.

After the first day, Mrs. Pool had taken her out shopping. They had come home with several bags of new clothes. It had been the first time since her adoptive mother had died that she'd gotten new clothes. She had stayed fairly quiet around the Pool's, keeping to her room when not helping with housework or at a meal. She was enrolled in school within the week but after several reports of her seeming uninterested in classes, they decided to have a tutor help her get caught up. She'd missed a decent amount of schooling when she'd been moving around the country with her adoptive father and being bounced from foster home to foster home. When the guy who was to tutor her showed up that first night, she had almost bolted from the house. To her surprise, it turned out to be the very guy she'd been caught trying to steal from.

She smiled a little to herself as she sat on the front step, letting the breeze blow the loose hairs at the back of her neck, tickling her slightly. The sound of a bull elk calling for a mate echoed through the valley, across the water. The smaller sparrows chirped in the noon day sun, hopping from branch to branch as she watched them. Her mind was still in the past, thinking about how her life had been changed, how she had changed.

The guy's name was MacGyver, Mac for short. He also worked for the Phoenix Foundation. Apparently he had taken a particular interest in her case and helped to find her a decent foster family. While she had been at juvi, the foundation worked on finding out as much as possible about her. They had done an extensive background check on her and without much need for explanations, put two and two together to get four in regards to her current situation. The foundation had pulled several strings with the states of Washington and California to get her case file transferred to them. She had been terrified of Mac at first. She was afraid he just wanted to get even for her breaking into his house and trying to steal from him.

Mrs. Pool finally got her calmed down and explained to Cheyenne about how they were only concerned for her. They explained that it had been Mac that had convinced them to become a foster family. They wanted to help her and so did Mac. He tried to be laid back about it all but there was an uncertainty about her and a lack of trust of anyone that made her to keep her distance from him.

After the first two sessions, Mac had become quite frustrated with her due to her lack of response with anything he'd tried. She had spent the past two sessions staring at her books in front of her. That night, Mac had stayed for supper upon the Pool's insistence. They had sat down to eat, he simply asked why she acted the way she did when he was only trying to help. When she wouldn't answer, Mr. Pool became angry enough to speak up to her in an authoritative voice. He told her that that they were tired of tip toeing around her and that her silence and introverted behavior were not wanted in their home.

She panicked upon hearing that, knowing she'd be sent off to another home because someone else didn't want her. Reality slapped her across the face. She had spent her life since her adoptive mother died being pushed and pulled around, told what to do, where to go, when to do something. She had felt as though she had to take the weight of the world upon her shoulders when she had decided to care for someone who didn't want to even live. In the past two weeks, she had come to actually enjoy living with the Pool's. But within moments of the beginning of the discussion at the supper table, she felt as if what little bit of foundation she had built up under her was being washed away.

Even to this day, she couldn't really remember what had happened but she had jumped up from her seat at the table. She was suddenly yelling at Mac and Mr. Pool. She thought that with a memory like hers, she should have been able to remember something of what she had said. But a few years later, when Mrs. Pool had been talking with her about it, remembering the early days, Cheyenne had asked her why she couldn't remember what was said. Mrs. Pool only smiled and told her that emotions had a tendency to overwhelm the other senses and shut down the memory in self-defense.

She remembered being angry, throwing a water glass against the wall, watching it shatter and the streaks of liquid run down the wall. She was yelling at Mac and surprisingly, he yelled right back at her as the Pool's watched on in surprise. She could remember the tears though, the hot moisture on her face, her runny nose as she continued to shout at him. She could remember the feelings of helplessness, entrapment, wanting to flee, to run and hide away from everyone and everything. Then she could only remember Mrs. Pool pulling her into a hug, trying to get her to let it all out, well experienced with such things. She remembered crying for what seemed like hours until her supper was a cold, hard mess of ruin long before she was done. She had cried and babbled about things that to her made sense, but she could only guess that it must have been difficult for the others to try and follow. The whole time, Mrs. Pool held her, listened and comforted.

She must have cried herself into exhaustion because she awoke the next morning in her bed, still dressed except for her shoes. She felt terribly embarrassed by her display the night before but Mrs. Pool had only kissed her forehead and told her that all was forgiven. It wasn't the first tantrum and upset behavior shown by a teenager in the house and it probably wouldn't be the last. Mr. Pool was already gone to work, but Cheyenne found that they had called the school to excuse her for the day.

After getting cleaned up for the day, she sat at the kitchen table with Mrs. Pool for several hours talking about many things. She reassured Cheyenne that they wouldn't let the case worker put her in another home. They knew and understood she needed stability and someone to care about what happened to her. They wanted to give that to Cheyenne but she had to let them in, let them understand what she thought, how she felt and keep the lines of communication open.

When it grew close to the lunch hour, Mrs. Pool produced a packed lunch from the fridge. Before she could ask why it was packed, the doorbell rang. It was Mac and after collecting the packed lunch, he drove her to the local air-strip. He had apparently called ahead to order a company chopper to be ready for them. She had been so embarrassed about the events of the night before that she couldn't bring herself to even speak or look at him without feeling as if she were stuttering. When they climbed into the chopper and got settled, she waited for him to fly her somewhere until she realized he was watching her.

"Well, you gonna take this thing up or are we just going to sit here watching the clouds roll by?" he asked with a smile. "I sure as heck can't fly this thing," he said jokingly. She found out later on that he could but that was another story. Her heart had skipped a beat when she realized that he was giving her permission to simply fly the chopper for nothing but the pure joy of it.

She chuckled as she pulled herself out of her memories for a moment to look around at the peaceful hills across the lake. The soft yip of a fox not far away made her turn her head and look to the west. Her mind drifted with the wind for a little longer.

She still could remember that flight. She could have sworn that his hair was whiter when they returned to the hanger. He had told his boss that he had experienced a level of flying in the chopper that he'd never seen before. He swore she had made that chopper do things that he didn't know choppers could do.

She let Mac continue to tutor her but when he couldn't figure how she was so far along in her studies, when the reports from the school said she acted disinterested, usually a sign that a student wasn't understanding the lessons. She finally decided to let him in on the little secret that only her adoptive parents and a few teachers had known.

At the beginning of her lesson, she'd asked Mac to pick out any book in the stack he'd brought with him and hand it to her. He had raised an eyebrow and did as she asked, handing her a book on Mesopotamian Archeological research. Mac had looked over at Mrs. Pool, who was making dinner. She could only shrug in lack of knowledge as to what Cheyenne was up to. She sat for a few minutes, flipping each page as she looked over pictures, skimming the text.

She handed the book back to Mac and told him to pick a page then give her the page number. He looked skeptical as to what this was all about but he didn't ask questions and simply gave her the page number eighty-five. Once he had opened the book to that page, she began to recite word for word what that page contained. The longer she went on, the more his mouth dropped open. He then handed the book to Mrs. Pool who picked a different page and look rather shocked as Cheyenne recited the page perfectly. They seemed stunned as she explained that was why she seemed uninterested in class and had really never fallen behind in school, even with missing so much in the past few years. It was the other students who had to catch up to her. Mac only laughed and closed the book, rolling his eyes now that the mystery was solved.

The next year and a half found her taking several exams to allow her to graduate school early. She also got her multi-level aviation license and was the one that flew the company chopper when the normal pilot was on vacation or out sick. In that time, Mac's houseboat had been burned down and she helped him get settled in a new place. She was just shy of seventeen when Mac had found out that he was a father to a young man nicknamed Sam. He was only a few years older than her. She felt a bit flustered that she couldn't seem to find the right thing to say around him whenever he was around.

When she turned seventeen, she had finally made up her mind to join the Air Force and the rest was history. Mac and Sam had headed off to 'tour the world' as they called it. Mac was proud of her but they both had moved on with their lives. They had kept in touch over the years and she had spent a few weekends with her foster parents, spending a few evenings with Mac at hockey games or stock car races. Sam only lived a few miles away from Mac and they had spent some time together, but for some reason she'd always clamor up or get terribly nervous around Sam. When it came to things that made her nervous, she usually kept her distance.

She had never forgotten Mac and he had always promised to be there for her if she needed him for anything. She could only hope that he could be here for her now, some ten plus years later. She'd heard recently that Mac had been offered a promotion to be head of the California branch of the Phoenix Foundation and facilities. He had accepted but she got the sense that he was probably regretting it at times.

Once she got herself calmed down a little and the feelings of flight didn't seem as intense, she took a deep breath and looked around her again. Finally standing and stretching, she went back to work, removing all of the reinforced shutters from the windows that she could access without a ladder.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

An hour later, she heard her cell phone chiming from inside the cabin as she was carrying one of the shutters over to the stack she had set out of the way. Dropping the shutter, she jogged to where she had tucked her phone away. She cursed the fact that she'd not put it in her pocket. Now she had to struggle with the duffle bag to pull it out. She flipped the phone open, "Hello?" she said as she tried to get her emotions back under control.

"Red! Good lord girl! Your message just about gave me a heart attack when I played it. It's been a long time," came the enthusiastic voice of MacGyver. She actually smiled a little to herself.

"It's good to hear your voice again, Mac," she said as she sat on the same step she'd been on earlier.

Mac chuckled into the phone, "So what is all of this about needing my help with some inherited property. Thought your parents didn't really have anything to pass along," he stated, sounding a bit confused.

Red was quiet for a moment, "It's not from the McPhearson's. It's from my biological father." Mac knew about her struggles of dealing with being adopted and not knowing hardly anything about her real parents. His company had even helped search for information but came to a dead end due to lack of record keeping on the reservation.

There was silence on the other end of the phone, "Your biological father?" he stated again, seeming a bit taken back by this news.

"Yeah…Listen, I need a break. Where you living now? I can be there in about two hours to get you. I could really use that help you offered awhile back," she stated, wondering if he'd be game or not. He was one of the very few people she had ever opened up to other than her parents and the Pool's, trusting her feelings to no one except those who had proven they wouldn't hurt her if she showed her true self.

The answer came quickly enough. "Of course! I'm supposed to be on vacation but it never seems to fail that something pops up that needs my immediate attention. Might be nice to be 'unavailable' for awhile."

She heard him talking to someone behind him and then he came back on the phone. "I'm at the office. You could always pick me up there since we actually have a 'designated' landing pad," he teased her, reminding her of some of the 'close' landings she'd had to make when she had flown chopper for them way back when. "Two hours huh? Anything you need me to bring or get for you before you get here?"

She let out a slight huff of air into the phone that came with the slight laugh he knew her for. "Actually, yes. I need a ladder, a tool kit for home repair, a broom, some rags and some food. I just got into the cabin up here. I haven't even seen much of the inside. It's in fair shape at first glance but I've no idea what I'll find tomorrow and I've got a week left before I'm due back to Nellis."

She could almost hear Mac's eyes roll. "Right. Well, I'll get stuff together and meet you at the landing pad. Two hours?" he asked finally to verify time.

"Yeah. Two hours. See you there, Mac," she said, hearing Mac's farewell and snapped the cell phone closed. She sat for a minute, looking out over the lake. The waters were still except for a few ripples and she saw a fish jump out in the middle of the lake. She took a few minutes to gather the rest of the shutters she had managed to get off and leaned them against a tree around back of the cabin with the rest she'd pulled off earlier. She picked up some of the trash she found around the cabin, bagging it and tossing it into the back of the chopper.

Using the last of the daylight to find the fuse box, she located it inside a cabinet in a back room. The fuses had been unscrewed and set on a shelf next to the box so she took a few minutes to check and secure each fuse back into the open slots. She left the switch alone until she had time to make sure the cabin wasn't going to burn down or something.

She locked the cabin door behind her as headed back to the chopper where she dumped her gear behind her seat. Within minutes she was airborne and heading west. Then she turned south along the coastline. The sense of tenseness she'd felt growing between her shoulder blades began to ease once she was back into familiar territory.

An hour and a half later, she landed smoothly on the roof of the Phoenix Foundation, blowing some of the bits of trash and paper around that were a given with any city. True to his word, Mac stood next to a pile of items she'd requested. She shut the motor down and pulled off her headset.

She stepped out of the chopper, the blades still whirling slightly as the motor wound slowly to a stop. She stretched a little and then headed over to where MacGyver stood. For a moment, they stood only a few feet apart, appraising each other. He definitely had much more gray in his hair but his looks hadn't changed much. He was still good looking, his face more chiseled and rugged than the youngish visage she remembered.

She then graced him with a smile, one she only saved for a select few that showed the dimples in her cheeks. He reached forward and pulled her into a hug, causing her to 'ooff' in suprise. He pounded her on the back a few times, "It's good to see you, Red. You look fantastic!" he said warmly as he released her from the hug.

She smiled with a touch of shyness at him, "You're not doing too bad yourself." she said with a wink, "If you were just a little younger or I, a little older….." she teased, letting the statement end there with a dramatic sigh. That brought a chuckle and a raised eyebrow from him. "How's Sam?" she asked, trying not to stutter over his name.

Mac chuckled a little, "Oh, not bad. Seems lately he's taken after me too much. He's in Africa right now on a conservation photo shoot," he replied, sounding rather proud in a fatherly sort of way.

Red nodded, trying not to show too much interest. It would have been rude of her not to ask about Sam. She wiped her hands on her jeans and smiled, "Come on, let's get this stuff loaded and back up to the site," she said as she leaned down to pick up the first load.

Within half an hour, the gear had been piled and secured into the chopper, the trash was sent down with security to the dumpster. It was already well past sunset by the time she was prepared to take off and the city was illuminated by its own glow. Before they climbed into the cab, she pulled out the briefcase and entered the combination, unlocking it before pulling out the papers she'd signed earlier in the week. She then locked it back up and handed the bound papers to Mac with a flashlight. "A 'little' light reading for on the way back."

With a blink of surprise, Mac took the book of papers and flashlight. He gave her a raised eyebrow look of question but she simply shrugged and started up the rotors. Within moments, she lifted off the roof and was back into the air. She looked over at Mac with a wicked gleam in her eye, "I promise to go easy on you this trip 'cause you're my guest," she joked as he looked a little more relieved. He'd gotten better about flying and heights over the years but he had also flown with her a number of times and knew she was always 'interested' in seeing what an aircraft could do.

He gave her a nervous 'grin' and sighed. The paperwork he read on the way back made for an interesting trip.

It was pitch black when they arrived at the cabin. Mac could only marvel at the houses they passed on the way up the coast and at the beginning edge of Eagle Lake. The shoreline got darker as less lights showed on the lakes water from the new developments. "I take it they haven't developed this far back from the ocean front yet, huh?" he said over the headset.

He was rewarded with a slight chuckle from Red. "Not really," she said, leaving Mac guessing as they flew closer to the cabin.

Mac looked at her in the dark, "What do you mean by 'Not really'?" he asked.

Red didn't say much for a few minutes until she looked over at him, "As in 'They haven't developed this far back yet because it's all private property'," she responded.

Mac was quiet for a minute, "Let me guess. You now own all of this lakeside property."

She smirked a little, "Yep. Over 30,000 acres of wilderness and lakefront property," she answered, still marveling herself at the sheer size of it.

Mac whistled softly, "That's…impressive."

Luckily the moon was shining off the lake water that night and she could see where the dock once stood. She slowed down and flipped on the spotlight. She found the landing spot from earlier in the day and set the chopper down gently. She heard Mac whistle softly at the look of the cabin on the outside. "Nice place," he stated as she began to shut down the engine and prep the chopper to sit for a few days.

Red only gave a slight nod as she pulled off the headset and hung it up on the hook near her seat. Mac followed suit as she climbed out of the cab. She grabbed her briefcase and flashlight, leading the way to the front porch. After she fumbled with the keys in the lock, she opened the door to hear the squeaky hinge welcome them in. They stood inside the cabin doorway, looking at the moonbeams coming in the windows, illuminating patches of dusty floor. She set down the load in her arms and headed to the back of the cabin where she had prepped the circuit breaker box.

She said a silent prayer in hopes that the cabin wouldn't burn down from the wiring being unused for sixteen years. As she flipped the switch, she could hear the hum of electricity begin flowing into the fuse box as she called out to Mac. "Find the light switch near the front door and try it now." There was a moment of silence and then she could see the light filter in from the hallway. With a sigh of relief, she turned the flashlight off and made her way back to the living room.

Mac stood there, hands in jean pockets as he looked around the open cabin. It was full of dust, cobwebs and sixteen years of grime build up. But in reality, it was truly impressive. There was furniture still here, all wrapped up in cloth and another layer of heavy black plastic. It was either too big to move out of the cabin or too heavy to bother with. The walls between the windows were leaded glass cabinets had all been emptied and stood barren, their wooden shelves showing rainbows from the glass in the doors that refracted the lamp light.

She walked slowly around the room. "The last week has seemed so…unreal Mac," she said in a soft voice. "I'm glad you're here though. If you're seeing what I am, then I know it's not a dream or some bizarre and twisted joke."

Mac looked back at her and for once he could see the slight hint of fear in her eyes. This was all new territory for her and she was uncertain of her next step. He motioned for her to come back outside. "Tell you what. Lets get the chopper unloaded and then we can explore," he said, trying to keep the sound of the coming work to be more of an 'adventure'.

She nodded and followed him outside. Within a few minutes, the food and cooler with ice and perishables were on the kitchen counter, their bedding and tools stacked into another corner and the chopper locked up for the night. After shutting the front door, she looked around and then looked at the fireplace. "Probably should wait till morning to start a fire once we've seen what type of caps they have on the chimneys."

Mac nodded in agreement as he went over to the far corner of the living room and knelt down, beginning to pull off the tape and black plastic over a chair. "Let's see what we've got here." he said as he carefully unwrapped the unwieldly piece of furniture. Under the drop cloth was a beautiful hand made pine log chair. As he pulled the rest of the plastic off, he coughed as the dust swirled up around him. After waving it away, he pulled out a handkerchief and tied it around his face. "At least you know that no ones been messing around in here since it was closed up," he commented, trying to find the upside.

Red imitated Mac with a handkerchief over her nose and mouth before moving over to the kitchen. She began unwrapping the cook stove and looking inside all of the cabinets along the wall. After an hour of cleaning off surfaces and checking everything over, she glanced over at Mac to find that he'd gotten most of the living room furniture uncovered. He had started to fold the drop clothes and black plastic into something more manageable. He returned her gaze for a few moments; he could sense how tense she was. There was little he could do for her at the moment so he went back to folding up the cloth and plastic.

A few hours later the cabin began to look like it must have twenty years ago. They worked through the night to clean up the dust, cobwebs and found several of the window boxes full of curtains that had been cleaned and wrapped up, laid flat to keep them from becoming ruined with age. Another window box held the cushions to the window seats. They were in fair shape but they would have to be replaced soon. Thankfully they had been each wrapped in plastic and so there was very little dust to them except from the fabric itself as it had aged.

She carefully hung up the curtains after Mac had come through and washed the windows on the inside. He managed to take off the grime buildup and dust, making the lead windows sparkle in the lights from inside the cabin against the black background of the night. She paused for a moment to watch Mac inspect each window after he had cleaned it. Thankfully he was of the mind to make notes on any repairs that might need to be made or issues with the glass or framework.

Mac kept up a light conversation with her but knew she was keeping her thoughts to herself, only answering when directly asked a question. Mac knew this to be the way she normally was. In stressful situations, her thoughts were often turned inward though he knew that her guard was up and her senses were at their height. However, he knew that his being here was a comfort to her. She wanted some familiarity during this strange and bizarre time. It wasn't often you learned that you were a wealthy land and business owner overnight.

Finally, when the living room was as clean as it could be with what they had for supplies, she flopped down on the couch with a sigh. Dawn was only a handful of hours away and if she didn't get sleep soon, she'd be 'very' cranky. When morning rolled around she knew she had to climb to the roof to pull off chimney caps. She watched Mac pull out his bedroll and she got up and pulled hers out from the bottom of the pile. "I'll take a window seat. You can have the couch." She headed towards one of the longer bench seats and spread out her bedroll. Mac was too tired to 'argue' and soon found himself stretched out on the couch inside of his sleeping bag as they both fell asleep in a strange place, surrounded by an interesting situation.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The smell of cooked bacon and southwestern eggs slowly drifted into her dreams of eagles and hawks dancing strange patterns over the lake before having a tea party with expensive china and trading fuses for pine cones before flying across the mountains.

She slowly peeled an eye open to find a plate of steaming eggs and salty bacon in front of her nose. She inhaled a little and looked up slightly to see Mac trying to get her attention. "Good 'morning' Sleeping Beauty. I would have let you sleep longer but your stomach was actually growling in your sleep."

Looking up she could see his gentle smile. She sat up slowly but in those few moments she came awake and was physically functional. She was used to getting up at a moments notice, sometimes only able to catch brief cat naps while on a mission or waiting to be called up. But even though she was 'awake', her alertness and coherency were severely lacking yet. She looked around in a confused manner for a moment then looked back at Mac before taking the offered plate. "Wha…?" was all she could articulate at the moment.

Mac sat down on the bench with her. He had his own plate of food. "It's almost noon Red. I tried to wake you up but you were so deep in sleep that I decided to just let you be. Harry often said that when you sleep that hard, it's for a reason." He took a few bites of eggs as she worked to engage her brain a little more. His plate held no bacon, only scrambled eggs with peppers and herbs in them.

"I figured I'd wake you by moving around. When you didn't stir, I headed up to the roof to take off the chimney caps and make sure that the roof looked sound. It does for the most part other than cleaning the pine needles off of it. I came back down to find you still sound asleep. So I just went about getting wood gathered and started making breakfast."

He grew quiet again as he ate more from his plate and sipped a cup of tea. He set down his plate and went to pour her some hot water from the stove and dropped in a tea bag. He brought it back to her and watched as she wrapped her hands around the mug to warm them, inhaling the steam. He had started to get worried when she didn't seem to want to wake this morning. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she got all of her brain cells working and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, yawning.

She ate some of the food before she actually spoke. "Thanks for breakfast," was all she could manage at this moment. It seemed baffling to her that she had slept so hard and for so long. She still felt sluggish as if she hadn't quite been ready to wake up yet.

She finished cleaning her plate of food, finally feeling a bit more alert. Mac took her plate from her as she got up and moved around. She continued to sip at her tea as she looked out the windows they had worked on the night before. He came back over and took her by the shoulders and steered her towards the hallway and to a bathroom that looked like Mac had taken the time to clean up a little.

"I even had time to find the water valve to get water flowing to the cabin again. Well water from the taste of it. Unfortunately the propane tank out back was removed years ago so until we can figure out what to do for continuous hot water, we'll have to boil water on the stove and take baths the hard way."

She stood in the bathroom for a moment as he left and within minutes had come back hauling a large pot of hot water. He poured it into the bathtub and then turned on the cold water. "Cool to taste and take a bit of time to relax," he coaxed, giving her a pat on the shoulder as he left. He shut the door behind him, leaving her alone in the room with hot, steaming water in the bottom of the old claw foot cast iron tub.

An hour had passed by the time she re-emerged. Her hair was washed and re-braided into a single long braid and her clean clothes made her feel more human. She walked towards the kitchen to find Mac sitting at the counter that divided the kitchen from the dining room. He had a pad of paper in front of him, making notes to himself about things. She went into the kitchen and poured herself another cup of hot water from the tea kettle and went to sit down next to Mac.

"I know I haven't thanked you yet, so … thank you for all you've done and agreeing to come up and help me. I don't think I could have handled it without you," she said, and from the look she gave him, he knew she truly meant it.

Mac put down his pencil and looked at her. "Red, you doing ok? I know you're not one to easily open to anyone but we've been friends for a long time. I would hope you could talk to me. I am pretty good at listening," he said with a teasing grin.

She looked at him with that calculating, cool gaze before he saw it shift a little to show a bit more emotion. She had slowly removed the first layer of her 'masks', letting him see a little more of her.

Finally, she looked back at her cup of tea and fiddle with the edge of it. "I'm…having problems dealing with all of this," she said waving her hand around a little to indicate the cabin and all that it meant. "When I get back to Nellis, I have to go to a hearing on my misconduct for a stunt I pulled a little over a week ago. Didn't do any harm to anyone or anything. I was just testing a new mod to an F-16 and wanted to see if it could do something. Wrong place, wrong time you know. Unfortunately, I could get discharged or demoted," she said the last bit almost under her breath.

Mac mmmed softly, knowing very well about being in the wrong place at the wrong time and then having to pay the consequences. "I was forced to take two weeks of leave and when I return it will be to face a committee hearing. Then I get this message from a Mr. Cliner about this estate. I come out here and within twenty four hours, I'm now the owner of a flight service out of Van Nueys. I know who my real father is and find out that I had a family at one time. In that same moment, I find out they're all dead and I'm the last."

He watched another layer of her masks slowly slip away, seeing the uncertainty by the crease in her brow. Mac sat quietly for a moment then finally said, "Cheyenne. You are a strong woman because you've survived what life has thrown your way and thrived. You're smart, mysterious and one hell of a pilot. Your luck is incredible. One day you go from the possibility of being discharged from the Air Force and having to try and find work that would suit you, to being handed a large estate that 'is' you. From the sounds of the business and the look of this place, it suits you. You'll get to fly for a living and you get the solitude you crave with perks."

"You have a way of landing on your feet even if you've been tossed about on the winds of change. As for your birth family, it's a tragedy that you'll never get to meet them until you pass into the great beyond, if you believe in such things. So simply honor their memories as if they were like soldiers that sacrificed themselves during the time of war to keep this country safe. They aren't nameless or faceless but what they did has allowed you to continue on their work and lives through you. Don't dishonor their memories. Don't dwell heavily on the past or it'll drag you down a road that you might not be able to walk away from. I think you just have things to come to terms with and it will take time." He tried to use just a hint of psychology he'd learned over the years on her as he spoke.

She was a soldier. She put her life on the line each time she went up in a fighter jet to protect her country. She was military and knew the cost that a soldier paid with their life. As for the issue with the Air Force, it was still an obstacle she had to overcome herself and take the consequences for her actions. But if he knew fighter pilots like he did, she knew how far she could push things without hurting anyone. And beurocrats, like he knew them to be, didn't like soldiers to push things to that fine edge and when they did, it gave an easy excuse to raise a fuss, beat their chests and make them feel important for a short while until the next crisis came along.

That final mask slowly slid from her face, letting him see the real woman behind the silent, mysterious fighter pilot. He was almost shocked at how different she looked. She looked at the wall opposite her for a long moment as she tried to come to terms with all that he had said. Her emotions were all in turmoil. Feelings kept coming to the surface that she had pushed away for so long that she hardly recognized them for what they were. To be a soldier meant to be cool, collected and not show emotions so no one could use them against you. But for a little while here, she wasn't a soldier. She was the daughter of someone who had at least thought enough of her to leave something to.

But it wasn't enough… It took a few moments to realize why it wasn't enough and it shook her down to her very core foundation. Mac saw the change in her face, saw the way she seemed shocked by something. "What is it?" he asked, trying to see if he could get her to talk about it.

She didn't know how to react to this realization but with a slight tremor to her voice she finally spoke it out loud. "I'm lonely, Mac." Her voice was almost a whisper. "I've been running for so long, trying to stay one step ahead of my emotions...to pretend that what happened in my childhood was in the past and couldn't touch me as long as I just kept moving. But I'm over thirty years old and I've nothing to show for it except a bunch of ribbons on my chest. Now I'm handed all of this as if fate is telling me it's time to settle down a little and stay awhile, but it's hollow, empty. I have nothing of my own to fill up this space, to make it not so … foreign, to make it 'my' home," she said as she finally looked back at him.

Right now, she reminded him of the young teenager he took under his wing. He could remember very vividly the night she finally broke down, screaming and crying. He had finally seen that there was a scared kid with some emotional issues under all of the brick walls she'd put up around herself. She had built those walls up most of her life to keep herself from getting hurt from childhood taunts about her heritage to the fear of being abandoned. He knew that though he had helped her tear down most of those walls, she had still built up a few new ones over the past few years. To be the professional pilot that the Air Force required, it almost seemed a necessity. She had kept others distant from her because deep down, she still feared being hurt emotionally.

He gently reached out and touched her cheek. "I know what it's like to be lonely. Look at me. Still not married, a son I didn't even know I had till he was technically an adult. But I've got Sam and friends to surround myself with and my closest friends 'are' my family," he said as he gave her a quick pinch on her cheek. "And though we've been distant for a time, I've always thought of you as part of that family." He left the invitation open for her to make of it what she wanted.

A fat tear rolled down her cheek and he wiped it away. "Thanks Mac, but you're my only family I have left since Mr. and Mrs. Pool passed away a few years ago," she said quietly.

This shocked him a little bit to think that even after all this time, she'd kept everyone so far away from her that she had no one but him. "I never settled down. I never found anyone I was willing to trust. You're the only solid connection I have to anything."

He sighed slightly and handed her a hanky. "Good lord, Red. How have you survived all these years? No wonder you're so lonely and to be honest with you, you're miserable," he said, trying to soften the rebuke just a little with a hint of a smile.

"Maybe it really is time to retire from the Air Force or get them to give you an honorable discharge so you can move on with your life. Your flight business could open lots of doors to you," he thought aloud, trying to put some hope into the outlook of things.

She wiped her tears away, frustrated that they didn't want to seem to stop. Her mind ran around in little circles like a dog chasing its tail while her heart ached with the realization that she had done this to herself. She sighed softly after she finally got herself under a little more control. She looked at Mac and tried to smile, though it came out a bit lopsided.

He smiled back and said, "But I want you to promise me that you won't go looking so hard for someone to fill up that empty space now that you know it's there. It'll get you in trouble if you're not careful. Besides, try to make friends first, the rest will come in time if it's meant to be." adding a little joking humor to his voice as if he was 'lecturing' her about the birds and the bees.

She laughed a little and could only shake her head. "Don't know if that will happen for a long time. I think I'm just scared of commitment." She tried to jest but was a bit unsure of how much was a joke and how much had the ring of truth to it.

Mac rolled his eyes and sighed. "How about we get some work done like checking out the office and the loft, maybe the shed outside. You can fly us into town with the trash and get some more supplies. I've got a list of things you should probably get so we can continue to work around here for another few days."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Feeling a little bit better, Red nodded and climbed off the barstool. She cleaned up the dishes from their very late breakfast and then the two of them headed up the stairs to the loft. On the way up, Mac pointed to the little lights hanging on the wall over blank spaces. "I'm going to assume there used to be an art collection of some kind but unless they packed it up and hid it somewhere around here, it's probably long gone." Red nodded absently. Mac simply shrugged. "If we don't find it, I could always disconnect all of this for you unless you want to start finding art you could replace on the walls."

Red sighed, "First I need to figure out what I plan to do with this place and all this land before I can decide on filling in the 'holes' on the walls," she teased slightly.

Mac just mmm'd in his usual manner as they got to the top of the stairs and looked out over the loft. He whistled softly. "Nice digs," he teased slightly at the look of the bed frame wrapped in plastic with everything else looking like a repeat of downstairs. There was little else in the loft except the bedroom furniture, a decent sized closet and the limestone fireplace. It was still dark upstairs since the two windows on either side of the bed had been the ones she hadn't been able to uncover the day before.

She stood there for a moment, taking it all in then looked at Mac. "Could I get you to go outside and get those shutters off? Couldn't reach them yesterday or I'd have done that already." She looked at the blocked up windows then at Mac.

Mac frowned, "You know how I hate heights," he said with a slight joke to his voice.

She simply rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'LL go take care of the shutters. Heaven forbid you work around your 'dislike' of being off the ground," she teased right back.

She turned and made to leave and he quickly grabbed the back of her shirt, "Hold up. Didn't say I 'wouldn't' do it, just expressing my 'issue' with being on a ladder," he said with a dramatic sigh to his voice.

She could only chuckle and shake her head a little. "Fine. Have it your way," she said with an emphasized toss of her hands into the air over her head. As Mac turned to leave she gave him a kick to the pants that made him stumble forward a step. He gave her a 'dirty' look over his shoulder and then headed down the steps.

Once he was out the door, she turned back to look at the loft. She took a moment to get her thoughts in order. She went over to the bed and began to uncover the frame and mattress. She checked under the bed but there was nothing stored underneath it except the usual layer of dust found everywhere. She went about uncovering the bedside table and a willow chair that was set in the corner before folding up the tarps and drop clothes.

She could hear Mac outside putting the ladder up and starting to work on getting the first shutter off. She dragged the plastic and fabric drapes downstairs and took them outside. On her way back up to the loft, she gathered the cleaning supplies to get the dust under control. Once she had returned to the loft, it took a few trips through the room with the mop to get control of the growing dust bunnies. By then, Mac had the shutter off the first window and was working on the second.

She worked to get the rest of the surfaces in the room cleaned off, swiping down cobwebs from the rafters. She went over to the closet to look around in it. She reached a hand up to the top shelf that she wasn't tall enough to see level with. She had expected dust and maybe a dead bug or two but what she found took her completely by surprise. The first thing her hand encountered was the cold metal of a small pistol. The coldness of the metal coming into contact with her fingers sent a jolt through her that made her yank her hand back quickly as if she had been bitten.

She stood on her tiptoes and tried to see over the ledge of the shelf. With no luck seeing the full shelf, she reached up carefully and pulled down the silver colored gun, letting it set in her hand for a moment before reaching up with her free hand to see if there was anything else up there. Her fingers encountered what felt like a handle against the inner wall. She managed to hit the back of the wall with her fingertips, finding nothing else there. She then went back to the handle and gave it a pull, but it didn't seem to budge.

Without being able to see it, she struggled to get a good grip on it. As her fingers moved over it, she felt it turn slightly in a different direction. Following through with that movement, she managed to turn the handle ninety degrees before she heard a soft click and the sound of what might a lock being releasing.

She let go of the handle and stepped back, hoping she didn't just set off some ancient security system. When nothing happened she looked around to notice that the other shutter had been removed off the second window and from the sounds of things outside, Mac was up on the roof walking around. She checked the gun to see if it was loaded, but found the clip and the chamber empty. She stared at it for a moment, wondering slightly if this had been her father's gun. She looked back down at the gun in her hand, giving a slight shiver as the feeling of something cool passed across the back of her neck, tickling the small hairs there.

She must have been so deep in her own thoughts that she started when she heard Mac shut the door downstairs as he came inside. She blinked and looked around before going to the railing of the open loft. "Hey Mac, come up here for a minute," she called out to him. Maybe he could figure out what the handle she found was for.

She put the empty clip back into the gun and set the safety on instinct before setting it on the mantle to the fireplace. When she heard Mac coming up the stairs, she moved over to the closet. She motioned for him to come up to the closet. "Can you see up there on the top shelf?" she asked.

He went over and stood up on his tip toes, before answering. "Yeah. It's bare," he said as he looked back at her, seeing her nod.

"Feel along the left side wall. I found a handle and got it to turn. Sounded like something unlocked but nothing's happened since then that I can tell." She sounded like an excited child having just found a penny.

Mac ran his hand along the wall and found the handle that was inset into the wall. He got back on his tip toes and looked at it as he fiddled with it. "Huh." was all that he said as he stepped back. "No idea Red. It could go to anything. Maybe we'll find out where later on. We'll just keep our eyes open for anything out of place," he said as he motioned to the gun on the mantle.

"Was that in the closet?" he asked as he looked back at her.

She nodded as she went over and picked it up. "I found this on the top shelf just before I found the handle. It's empty of ammo but looks to have been well cared for before being left up there." Her shoulders shrugged a little as she tucked it into her back waistband and looked around before heading to the stairs.

"Any problems up on the roof?" she asked, "Other than being up too high for you?" she teased.

"Oh ha ha," came the grumbled answer. "No. Everything seemed to be in good order. I also took the other chimney cap off so we can use the fireplaces. Might need to clean the chimneys out before we use them too much," he commented as they went over to his list of items on the kitchen counter. Such banter went on for the rest of the day as they both worked to inspect the cabin, make notes, clean and fix what they could at that time.

As the sun began to sink over the horizon, Red and Mac sat on the front steps of the cabin sipping steaming cups of tea. The silence was comfortable, relaxed. They seemed comfortable in each other's presence.

"I have to head back to Nellis in two days. The 'laundry' list of things I need to do to this place seems a bit intimidating. Don't know how I'm going to get it done while I'm a thousand miles away," said Red after taking a sip of tea from her metal cup.

Mac was silent for a time then shifted as he leaned back, elbows on the top step, back stretched a little up the steps. "Well…," he drawled slightly. "I could come up here as a forced 'retreat' and do some work for you. That is, if you want me to and you're willing to let me have free reign with the place while you're gone?"

Red turned a little to look at him, a slight smile to her lips. She didn't have to speak her thoughts. She knew Mac had enjoyed the time they had spent here so far. She'd seen him slowly relax. The stress of his position at the Phoenix Foundation had been draining the life from him and this little retreat had started to rejuvenate him somewhat.

"I'll have to introduce you to my manager, Rachelle. You'll need to go through her for funds since she's running my business now and I'm going to give her partial executor of my estate. You already have that honor but I'll lessen it a little by giving half to her," she said with a smirk.

Mac raised an eyebrow. "That just sounds…morbid."

She shrugged, "I'm a test pilot. I could crash and burn any time I go up. It's a reality. I think…I'll will this place to you and the business to Rachelle if anything were to happen to me. You like it up here. It fits you," she teased lightly.

Frowning, he sat up. "Wish you wouldn't talk like that…but, I appreciate the thought." His eyes looked at hers, "But nothing better happen to you because I plan to make myself your guest at least once a month up here."

She laughed softly, her own stress having drained away finally. She was slowly coming to enjoy the cabin and the solitude, the beauty of it. "If it means I have to stock the lake with trout, so be it…if it means you'll come up here to fish at least once a month and relax. That beast you're in charge of is draining the life out of you Mac."

He snorted and then drank the rest of his tea. "Perhaps, but I'm not ready to retire yet."

There was a frown to her lips now but she said nothing as she turned to look back out over the waters that had turned golden red with the setting sun. The mountains around them were now half in shadow, half in the final light of the day. The wind had picked up some, making the white pines around the cabin whisper and hush in the wind.

"Sam still asks about you every time he's in town," came Mac's voice from behind her.

Her thoughts sprang immediately to Mac's son and her heart skipped a beat. Dammit, she had it bad for him, she just couldn't seem to admit it to anyone or approach him about it.

"That's….nice," she said hesitantly. "Has he found himself someone to settle down with or is he still being a bachelor like his father?" Her breath was caught in her throat, dreading the answer.

Mac had been watching her intently, seeing the coloring of her cheeks, the way her body tensed and how she had stopped breathing for a moment. He knew she had a thing for Sam but neither one seemed willing to admit it. "He's still single though he's dating someone right now. I've not had a chance to meet her yet and he's out of the country for another month."

Her heart sank. "Oh. Well, I'm sure if he's dating her, she must be a very nice woman." It was the only thing she could say to that.

Mac felt bad for saying it but he knew he had to be honest with her. Sam had acted smitten with this new woman and had been dating her for several months now. He had silently wished Sam and Red would have become a couple but perhaps it wasn't meant to be. He didn't respond to her and let the subject drop.

It took until the sun had finally set for her to get herself and her thoughts under control. She shoved them all deep inside and locked them behind the walls she'd built around her heart. Standing up, she stretched and turned to look at Mac.

"Come on old man. Time for some sleep. Gonna call Rachelle and have her get us some supplies. I'll fly us into town and pick them up. Still got two days and you've got some time due for fishing I think," she said with a smile.

Mac stood up and took the two steps to cross to her and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her gently. "You're grown into one hell of a woman. I'm proud of you."

She hesitantly wrapped her arms around him and after a moment, tightened her grip as if she were clinging to him like a drowning human would cling to a life raft. She said nothing but took comfort in his presence. He was the closest thing she had to family and right now, that's all she needed.

-To Be Continued-


End file.
